


thus is fate

by halcyonwhispers



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, there needs to be more taewin in the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 03:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9104107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonwhispers/pseuds/halcyonwhispers
Summary: Some soulmates have funny stories about how they met.The stars must’ve snickered behind their hands when they engraved his Words onto his hip.





	

**Author's Note:**

> im blanking out on my other fics, so i wrote this to get something outta my system.
> 
> ppl, write more taewin fics please. it makes me sad when im checking the tag every other day and see nothing.

Sicheng yawns, tiredly dragging his cleaning supplies behind him. He just finished cleaning the offices on the 10th floor and is making his way up to the 15th to finish up his shift. Hopefully he can get home to his tiny apartment before 5 AM.

When he finally makes it up there, his stomach starts growling. He sighs, wishing he could have afforded a bigger meal at his break, but Sicheng knows he has to be careful with the expenses. There’s money for his rent, the grocery, phone bill, and then everything else for his family in China.  

But that thought only depresses him further. He’s the only one on this floor, and besides the sounds from the cleaning supplies and his footsteps, there’s an emptiness in the air. Usually he’s paired up with Yuta to take on an entire floor, but his ‘hyung’ had gotten the night off to spend it with his soulmate. Even though they both can sort of communicate through broken Korean, Sicheng could understand the way Yuta pointed his Words on his forearm, a soft look in his eyes.

While Sicheng’s Hangul isn’t well enough to understand what it says, he’s seen the way Hansol looks at Yuta, like he holds his heart in his hands.

Sicheng drags his cart into the employ service elevator behind the stairs, and sighs thinking about his friend’s love life.

He pressed the button to the 15th floor and leans his head against the wall, listening to the hum of the machine as it moves upwards.

He glances down at his hip, knowing where his own Words sit engraved and undisturbed by anyone’s voice. It was the only bit of Korean he understands perfectly, having said it to himself a thousand times. Sicheng presses his thumb over his left hip, imaging the Words in his mind’s eyes.

He’s wondered a million times what they’re like, if they’re happy wherever they are, and if they think about him as much as he thinks about them.

Sicheng smiles a little, maybe a little bitter, and moves his hands away to grip the cart instead. His soulmate might be out there, but thinking of them now won’t help him. Not when foods needs to put on the table and his family’s waiting a country away for every bit of money he can scrap together.

As the elevator beeps, he pulls out his list to see which bathrooms and offices need cleaning at this hour. He almost cries with relief when he notices it’s only four of the ten offices and the restrooms at the end of the hall. If he works quickly, he can get it down within three hours. Maybe two hours if he doesn’t fool around.

He’s grinning to himself once he gets started cleaning, humming a song he doesn’t know the words of, but it’s catchy.

Sicheng dusts every bit of all the furniture, cleans the wooden desk, and quickly wipes down all the glass surfaces with the cleaner. Finally he vacuums and empties the trash can into the larger bin on his cart before locking the door on his way out.

He repeats the process until he’s left with the remaining office. He stands in front of the door for a second, covering his third yawn of the night with his hand as he reaches for his key.

He unlocks it and pushes the door open, eyes trying to adjust to the darkness before his hand blindly finds the light switch. At a flick of his fingers, light drenches the room and his first thought is how tidy the room looks as always. Room 217, clean as ever.

His second thought is blared out by the grouchy yell of, “Turn off the light!”

Sicheng feels as if he ears popped, jumping almost a foot in the air and gasping loudly when he sees a man on the dark leather couch, hidden by his black slacks and the dark suit jacket draped over his torso. “S-sorry!” he screams in Mandarin, mind tuning to white noise.

He’s shutting the door and racing to the elevator with his equipment. It’s because of this that he fails to notice the other freeze mid movement.

Fingers slam onto the button a thousand clicks per second until at least it opens, and Sicheng runs in side. From the other end of the hallway, he hears someone telling him to _stop_ , to please _wait_ , but the tone of his voice only causes Sicheng to panic.

Scream tugging in his throat and a vision of being fired makes him bang a fist against the close button. He doesn’t even get a good look at the man when the doors close shut and he descends.

He takes a deep lungful of air when he’s in the main floor, shakenly nodding to the night manager, and finding safely in his supply closet. His hands tremble as he quickly changes out of his uniform, times out, and steps onto the bus to catch his train.

It’s on this train, filled with a handful of people, that he closes his eyes for a moment. Sicheng counts to ten in soft Mandarin, trying to calm his still thumping heart. Closing his eyes, he tries to relax, right hand unconsciously touching his Words.

His Words…

Sichen’s eyes snap open.

Oh _shit_.

 

.

 

Even though Sicheng has the next day off, he nervously arrives the following night with his heart in his throat. His nerves felt like someone poured boiling oil on them when the manager called him that morning, informing him that Lee Taeyong wanted to speak with him.

_The. Lee. Taeyong._

Lee Taeyong. Lee Taeyong as in the only son and heir to the very building Sicheng has been cleaning for the last year.

The manager seems to understand something is wrong because he tells Sicheng to quickly put on his uniform and to pay attention to whatever comes out of Lee Taeyong’s golden mouth.

At this, Sicheng blushes, knowing his Korean is still far from perfect. 

So he does what he’s told, as always, and when he stands in from of Lee Taeyong’s room, (remembering room 217, ever so clean, he hardly needs to do anything to it) Sicheng touches his Words under his gray jumpsuit. He glances down at his feet, at the dingy white sneakers he’s bought at the flea market. His mind recalls the suit Taeyong wore last night and shivers.

Biting his lip, Sicheng looks at his back, spying the bright lights of Seoul through the large spotless windows. Sicheng forces his gaze from them and brings up his hand to tap the wood with his knuckles.

KNOCK

KNOCK

A crash explodes inside the room, noise dulled by the door. Sicheng inwardly screams. Screaming would not be a good first impression, but then he remembers yesterday, and swipes a hand over his uniform and knows _that’s_ already a lost cause.

His head snaps back up to catch a light call of “Fuck,” then a minute later, a louder “Come in,” before he timidly turns the handle.

Sicheng steps to see Taeyong awkwardly holding a bouquet of flowers. Sicheng only spares them a glance, because behind him, covering his desk and every other surface inch of his office, sit even more flowers along with teddy bears, balloons, heart shapes boxes, probably filled with chocolates, and a small rectangular box that says…

“Tiffany?” Sicheng says idiotically, butchering the English name with his accent, everything catching him off guard.

“Um, no. My name’s Taeyong,” Lee Taeyong quickly says, tightening his hold on the pale lavender and roses.

Sicheng doesn’t even realize when he steps forward, dumbly staring at the candles alit in the middle of the coffee table. It’s only thanks to his gawking that he sees pieces of broken glass and a large wet spot of the floor under the table.  

He glances back up at Taeyong in shock until he sees the other staring at him. Sicheng can only meet his eyes for a moment before looking away, blush smothering his cheeks and nipping away at his ears.

Lee Taeyong is the most handsome man he’s ever laid eyes on.

“T-these are for you.” Taeyong clears his throat, stepping forward a little. Sicheng looks at him under lowered lashes. He’s taller than Taeyong, but the way his eyes widen and lips part make Sicheng feel like a petite glass figurine.

Sicheng shyly smiles, hearing Taeyong suck in a breath, and tenderly grabs the pastel bundle of flowers.

“Thank you,” he whispers, timid smile still pressing on his lips. He stares at the bouquet, thinking _Are you mine?_

“Yes, I’m yours.” Sicheng snaps his eyes back to Taeyong, chest tightening at the little smirk he gives him.

He said that out loud. Oh god.

Taeyong grins, redness still bleeding through his cheeks just enough to make Sicheng stare even harder. “I got you some presents.” He jerks his thumb behind him, and but Sicheng’s eyes stay on him.

“Tae…yong?” he tries out the name for the first time. It taste like honey.

Taeyong visibly jumps at it, perking up and looking very excited for someone awake at 1 AM. “Thank you for…gifts, but,” Sicheng nods slightly to himself. That sounds rights. He sees Taeyong’s face slip from an unsure smile to panic in a blink of an eye. “But,” he quickly adds, “I only want…you.”

Taeyong makes a noise and turns away, a hand covering his mouth.

Sicheng yelps, hurrying forward, apology already set on his mouth when he notices how flustered Taeyong looks. The man glances at him with a blissful upturn of the lips, eyes shining. “Do you want to go out on a date, then?” There’s a hint of playfulness in his words, in his face.

He smiles wider and nods. “Ice cream?” He bats his eyelashes, quickly enjoying the feeling of Taeyong’s fixated stare of utter adoration.

Just as the words leave his mouth, Taeyong’s already dropping his suit jacket onto the floor. It only takes a moment for him to roll up his sleeves and another for Sicheng to grab his hand.

They take the stairs to make the moment last longer.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> then sicheng quits and taeyong helps him get into seoul's best school for dancers where he becomes the best student bc baby has talent
> 
> also, taeyong has his Words on his ankle


End file.
